


Long Live the Wyverns and Wilderness Yet

by khalulu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Dragons, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, H/D Erised 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Inspired by Poetry, Kissing, M/M, Magico-ecology, Minor Hermione Granger/Padma Patil, Minor Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, Poetry, Post-Hogwarts, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Reconciliation, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Returning Home, Slow Romance, Some Humor, Tubas, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalulu/pseuds/khalulu
Summary: Five years ago, feeling lost and overwhelmed, Harry left England to seek healing, peace and solitude in the mountains of China. Now, welcomed back by his friends, he finds that no one is quite where he left them – and Draco Malfoy seems to turn up everywhere. A river, a return, a reconciliation and a rekindling. Also wyverns, Weasleys, poems, Patils, Taro Tuesdays and a tuba.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 48
Kudos: 184
Collections: H/D Erised 2020





	Long Live the Wyverns and Wilderness Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragontamerdrarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontamerdrarry/gifts).



> Dear dragontamerdrarry, thank you so much for your wonderful rec lists, which are such a boon to fic readers and writers alike! I very much enjoyed writing for your prompts, and I hope you enjoy reading the result. Many many thanks to the gracious and all-around awesome mods, and to my thoughtful, perceptive and encouraging beta, dark0feenix!

[ ](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wessex_dragon.svg)  


Years in the chosen solitude of the Zhongnan Mountains of China had left Harry unprepared for the bustle of the International Portkey Terminal. But at least he would be able to relax at Ron and Hermione’s, in the accepting warmth of their friendship. “Our Floo is always open for you, Harry, you know that,” Hermione had always said, and though he hadn’t been in touch for a long time, he trusted her promise.

When he gave the address of their flat, though, he found that the Floo was closed. Of course it was possible they had moved… He consulted a public Floo directory and found Hermione’s name, and soon he was whooshing out into a cosy living room lined with bookcases. The woman lying on the couch, bare feet propped up on the armrest, looked up from her book in surprise. She had large, dark eyes and short cropped black hair, and looked vaguely familiar.

After a moment she said simply, “Harry Potter. Come in, Hermione will be thrilled. She stepped out but she’ll be back in a minute.”

“Er, great,” Harry said, stepping into the room and putting down his bag. “Is Ron here?”

The woman raised her brows slightly. She was one of the Patil twins, Harry realised – the short hair had thrown him off. He guessed it was Padma; he didn’t remember Parvati being much of a reader. But what was she doing here?

Just then the Floo roared to life and Hermione appeared. Harry held out his arms, grinning. She gave a little shriek, dropped a couple of packages and dove at him. Harry laughed as he hugged her and then caught his breath at the sweetness of feeling so loved. She squeezed him hard in silence and then words came tumbling out, a mixture of welcome and reproach. “I haven’t heard from you in forever, Harry!”

“I’m sorry. But I’m here now,” Harry said, stepping back. “It’s so wonderful to see you. Where’s Ron?”

“At his house, I suppose, if he isn’t at his shop?” Hermione turned as the other woman stood abruptly and moved toward a door. Hermione’s hand shot out to grab her wrist and tug her gently closer. “Harry? Have you read the letters I sent?”

“There wasn’t delivery in the mountains. And when I came back out, there was quite a stack of them, but to be honest I wanted to see you both so much, I decided to just come talk to you in person.”

“So, you, you’ve missed some news then. Ron and I – aren’t together anymore. Padma and I are…”

“Together,” Padma said, slipping an arm around Hermione and kissing her temple lightly. Hermione blushed slightly and nodded.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Er, congratulations?” 

There was a brief, awkward silence, broken by Padma. “Is that arbi ki sabji I smell?”

“Yes! It was the special. Didn’t even have to wait for Taro Tuesday,” Hermione said. “Oh, I hope I didn’t spoil it by dropping the bags. I was so excited to see Harry.”

Padma picked up the take-out bags and peered inside. “It should taste fine. Eat dinner with us, Harry? There’s plenty of food. Parvati always packs enough for leftovers because she knows we can’t cook.”

“We can cook,” Hermione protested. “A little.”

“We can apply heat to raw food and often achieve an edible result. But we usually don’t have to, because my sister is a professional kitchen goddess.”

“It’s true,” Hermione said. “Oh, Harry, you have to stay and tell me how you are and what you’ve been doing. All these years!”

It was good to sit with one of his oldest friends. It was hard to answer her questions, though – Harry had got used to living alone on a mountain with his nearest neighbours being monks and hermits. Long stretches of time went by when he didn’t talk with anyone, and when he did, it was in his broken Chinese. Now normal English conversation felt rushed, and by the time he had gathered his thoughts, Hermione or Padma were already filling the silence.

The food was good though. “Does Parvati have a restaurant then? This is delicious,” Harry said.

“She and Lavender opened a shop together, Tea and Tarot. In the beginning they just served tea and pastries and did readings – tea leaves, tarot cards, crystal ball. And then – how did Taro Tuesdays get started, Padma?”

“It was that Thai boyfriend of Neville’s. He asked for taro balls in coconut cream, it’s a Thai pudding. He said if there was Tarot in the name there should be taro on the menu, and ever since there’s been a special every Tuesday. The main courses were so popular, the shop has expanded into a full restaurant, lucky for us.”

“Wait, Neville has a Thai boyfriend?” Harry said. Was everyone coming out now?

“He’s quite sweet. He had to go back to Thailand but I think Neville is there visiting him now.”

They chatted some more as they ate and then Padma excused herself to let them catch up.

Harry hesitated and finally asked. “So… you and Ron…”

Hermione sighed and pushed her hair back. “We’ll always care about each other, after all we went through together. But we’re better off with other partners.”

“How long?”

“Since we broke up? A couple of years. You know, for all the big fights we used to have, it wasn’t about an argument.” Hermione paused, then continued in a quiet voice. “I thought I was pregnant – not planned. Ron was ecstatic, and I was… filled with dread. It turned out to be a false alarm. But I realised that Ron had his heart set on children, and I might never want them. I just want some time to – follow my curiosity, without so much responsibility for another life, you know?”

“Hey, you’re talking to the man who ran away to be a hermit.”

“Well, if anyone has earned a vacation from responsibility it’s you, Harry. I know you hate being called a hero, but…”

Harry shook his head. “I could never have got through the war without you. Or Ron. Who knows if we would even have passed our classes without you, Hermione!”

Hermione laughed. “I used to worry about that! You would have, though. I kept trying to make you both into the same type of student that I was, and that wasn’t good for anyone. I was always trying to reshape Ron, and it wasn’t fair to him – he’s a good man. Much less irritating now that he’s not my boyfriend anymore!” 

“You seem happy now,” Harry said.

“Yeah, Padma…” Hermione paused, her face lighting up as she searched for words. “You know, we just understand each other so well. With most people, I have to think about how to explain or present myself, but with her I can skip that.” 

“Perhaps she’s your _zhīyīn_. ‘The one who knows the tone.’”

Hermione looked inquiringly at Harry, so he explained.

“It means your true friend, the one who understands you deeply. There’s an old Chinese story about a statesman Boya and a wood-cutter Zhong Ziqi. Boya was playing a zither by himself on a boat at night. He was thinking about the mountains as he played. The woodcutter heard the music from the shore, and exclaimed ‘Ah, this music is as majestic as a mountain.’ Then Boya thought about rivers as he played, and Zhong Ziqi said ‘This music is as vast as a great river!’ Boya felt that Zhong Ziqi was the only listener who truly heard and recognised him.”

“Yes! It’s like that,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled affectionately at his friend and then was overtaken by a yawn. “Sorry!”

“Oh, you must be exhausted! I forgot the time difference from China. Stay here tonight – I can Transfigure the couch into a bed for you, just a minute.”

“No need, it’s fine as a couch. Honestly, I might end up sleeping on the floor, it would be more like the bed in my hut.”

After a little fussing with sheets and blankets and pillow, Hermione said goodnight and went into the bedroom that Padma had retired to earlier. Harry lay on the couch, which was comfortable but a bit soft. Then he lay on the floor, which was hard. Then he stood at the window, breathing the night air and looking out at the moon which hung low and almost full in the sky.

Living alone on a mountain for years, he had found companionship in the poems of other monks who had lived among those same peaks. One of the poems came back to him now.

> _The hermit doesn’t sleep at night:  
>  in love with the blue of the vacant moon.  
>  The cool of the breeze  
>  that rustles the trees  
>  rustles him too. _

Five years’ retreat from the dusty world had been peaceful. But now perhaps, like Hermione, he could find a love on earth? Rustled, he tried again for sleep.

o0o

The next morning was Saturday. Harry borrowed Hermione’s owl to send a message to Ron. The reply was a swift and enthusiastic invitation to come over, with Floo co-ordinates given. Harry grinned, stepped into the Floo, and was deposited in a cheerfully chaotic living room to be greeted by a beaming Ron Weasley, with his arm around a smiling and very pregnant Lavender Brown.

“Harry! It’s so brilliant to have you back! Are you here for long? What have you been doing? You remember Lavender, of course you do!”

“Of course, hello Lavender,” Harry said.

“Hello Harry, welcome!” Lavender said, a bit shyly. “I’ll let you two catch up and go and make us some tea.” 

Ron looked after her fondly as she left for the kitchen. 

“So…” Harry said.

“Yeah, we’re going to be parents soon! I’m going to be a dad! Isn’t it brilliant?”

“I’m so glad for you,” Harry said, and he was, couldn’t help but be glad when Ron was so clearly overjoyed. 

They looked at each other in expectant silence, and then both started talking at once, and then both stopped, laughing. Ron asked a couple of questions about China and then began talking about Lavender, and the coming baby, and the joke shop, so Harry was spared the need to find words for his largely wordless experiences of the past five years.

The Floo roared behind him. “Hello, potions delivery!” said a pleasant and vaguely familiar voice.

“Great! I’ll get Lavender,” Ron said, leaving the room. 

Harry turned toward the newcomer and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Malfoy started, sloshing the liquid that hissed in a goblet. 

“Malfoy?” Harry couldn’t think what to say.

“Potter.” Malfoy acknowledged him with a brief nod, smoothing his face.

Lavender came in. “Oh, my potion, wonderful! It was so helpful last month. Will you stay and have a cup of tea?”

“Er, no, I don’t want to intrude,” Malfoy said, glancing at Harry. “I just wanted to discuss the dosage with you, given your condition. Perhaps we can step into another room?”

A few minutes later, after talking with Lavender in the kitchen, Malfoy left. Harry turned to Ron. “Well, that was unexpected.” When Ron looked puzzled, Harry added, “Malfoy.”

“Oh, he brings Lavender’s potion every month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s one of the few people who can make it.”

“He’s improved it a lot,” Lavender said, coming in with a tray of tea and cake. “It made a big difference.”

“I just remember you saying you would never trust him, Ron.”

“Ah, I forgot how long you’ve been away,” Ron said. “Yeah, I was angry the first couple of years after the war, a lot of people were. But since then you know, he went round and apologised, turned over a new leaf, he’s been quite decent. Went through the whole truth-and-reconciliation thing after the war, made reparations. So yeah, he was awful back then, but that’s sort of – water under the bridge now?”

_A current of dark cold water, swirling under the bridge…_

Harry shook himself. Time to change the subject. “All right.” He drank his tea. “So Lavender, I hear you and Parvati opened a business together? Congratulations.”

Lavender smiled. “Thanks! It’s been a lot of work but it’s fun. Do you want me to read your tea leaves?”

Harry tried to catch Ron’s eye, remembering all the dreadful prophecies from Divination class. But Ron was getting a second slice of cake, and Lavender captured Harry’s teacup. Fortunately she did not see any portents of death. “It looks like there is romance in your future!” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Did you meet anyone in China?” Ron asked.

“Mostly monks,” Harry said. Well, and there had been a spry elderly Buddhist nun in a cave to the west of his hut, but he didn’t think that was what Ron meant. “How are your parents?”

Ron invited him to Sunday dinner the next day at the Burrow, but Harry was hoping to see Andromeda and Teddy then. He promised to call at the Burrow soon.

o0o

Harry arrived Sunday afternoon excited to see his godson. But that charming toddler had become a child of seven who Harry didn’t recognise and who didn’t remember him. Andromeda asked thoughtful questions about his life in China while Teddy kicked his heels.

Harry salvaged the situation when he brought out a gift for Teddy, a small toy dragon from China that changed colours as it flew. Teddy laughed and jumped up, chasing it around the room. His hair began to flash the colours of the dragon. “Take that outside, Teddy, before you crash into something,” his grandmother said.

Teddy ran outside with the toy. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that,” Harry said. 

Andromeda smiled warmly at him. “It’s fine. I’m so glad to have you back, Harry.”

“Look at my new dragon!” Teddy was shouting. 

“Very nice!” someone said outside. “How does it fly without wings?”

“Er – I don’t know! Let’s ask Harry.” Teddy charged back inside as Andromeda went to the door to meet the visitor.

“Harry, how does the dragon fly without wings?”

“It’s a Chinese dragon. It has whiskers, see? They don’t need wings to fly. They can swim, too.”

“Cool! It’s my first Chinese dragon in my collection.”

“You have a dragon collection?”

“Yeah! Because dragons are COOL!”

“A truth universally acknowledged,” said the man standing in the doorway, broom in hand. It was Draco Malfoy, though whether he looked cool or challenging or amused, Harry couldn’t quite tell. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Malfoy continued. “I just wanted to check how things went last night.”

Teddy said, “It tasted better! Next time can you make cherry flavour?” 

“I’ll try.” Malfoy got out a little notebook and jotted something down. Teddy pulled Harry over to a shelf where there were several dragon figurines.

“Look, this one’s a Hungarian Horntail. I have more in my room, come see!”

Andromeda, who had been speaking to Malfoy in a low voice, turned and said, “Let’s do a quick tidying-up before we take a guest in there, all right?” Teddy began pouting until she added, “You can help me choose the spells.” Then he scampered off with her, leaving Harry alone in the room with Malfoy, who was still making notes in his little book.

“Nice dragon,” Malfoy commented.

“Thanks.” Harry had no idea what to say to Malfoy. His eyes landed on Malfoy’s fountain pen. It was cigar-shaped, a striking marbled green and black with a gold nib. “Nice pen.”

“It’s a wyvern,” Malfoy said absently.

“Er, no, Malfoy, that’s a fountain pen.”

Malfoy paused and then looked up with a private little smile. “Why, so it is.”

Teddy came back into the room. “You were away a long long time, Uncle Harry.”

“I was. I’m sorry I missed so much of your growing up, Teddy.”

“Why did you then?” Teddy asked.

“I was in China.”

“Why?”

“Well… I was visiting Charlie Weasley at the dragon reserve in Romania. I didn’t know what to do next. He told me about Chinese dragons, so I decided to go there to see them. Then…” Harry trailed off. He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him. He tried to ignore that; Teddy deserved an answer. “It seemed like a good place to clear my mind and try to learn some things. And then… I lost track of time.”

“You cleared out your mind? Like a cupboard? Did you throw away the things you knew before?” Teddy frowned. His godchild. How could Harry have abandoned him for so long?

“Not everything. I kept the really good things, like my memories of you, and your parents. I kept them safe. But maybe I didn’t look at them enough.” Harry squatted down to Teddy’s height. “Maybe we could make some new good memories together?”

Teddy’s hair was shifting through a succession of colours. It settled on a vibrant pink that reminded Harry of Tonks at her most cheerful. He grinned at Teddy and Teddy grinned back.

There was a slight shifting sound behind them. Malfoy, who had been leaning in the doorway, said a brief goodbye and lifted his hand in farewell. Teddy ran to hug him and Malfoy gave the child a warm smile, then turned and walked out. 

Standing, Harry watched Malfoy swing a leg gracefully over his broomstick and push off. He joined Teddy in the doorway, and together they watched Malfoy disappear into the clouds.

o0o

When he arrived at the Burrow a few days later, using a combination of public Floo transport and Apparition, it was Molly Weasley who opened the door. She swept him into a hug, exclaiming over him and scolding him for being away so long.

“Let me put the tea on and fix you something to eat, Arthur’s out by the shed, go see him, won’t he be surprised!”

Laughing, Harry headed out toward Mr Weasley’s shed. He saw Arthur bending over a large, old-fashioned car with the bonnet up. It looked even older than the Ford Anglia that Ron had flown into the Whomping Willow.

“Hullo, Arthur!” he called.

Arthur’s head popped up. “Harry!” He hurried to meet Harry and then there were more delighted exclamations and questions. Finally Harry gestured to the car.

“What have you got here?”

Arthur began walking towards it with Harry. “It’s his,” Arthur said, waving toward the shed. “We were just looking at the carbelator.” 

Harry hadn’t realised there was someone else there. Now he noticed the man standing in the doorway of the shed, quietly regarding him. It was, who else, Draco Malfoy. In blue jeans and a T-shirt, slightly grease-smudged, with his hair falling into his eyes, looking unfairly un-Malfoyish and attractive.

Just then Molly called out something to Arthur and he stepped over to the house to talk with her. Harry was left with Malfoy and the vintage automobile.

“What are you doing with a car, Malfoy?”

“It’s a wyvern.”

“No, Malfoy, that’s a car.”

Draco’s eyes gleamed. “I can’t put one over on you, can I, Potter? Very well, it’s a car.”

“Does it fly?” Harry asked.

“No, Potter. As a rule, cars don’t fly. For that you need an aeroplane. Or a broom.”

“Right.” Perhaps Arthur had got into too much trouble over the Anglia and didn’t want to share its secret. “Do you really know how to drive that thing? And does it actually run?”

“Yes, and sometimes. Were you hoping for a spin?”

Harry shook his head. “The world has gone strange.”

“Did you expect everything here to stay the same until you were ready to come back to it?”

Harry looked up.

Malfoy’s voice was quiet. “You can return to a river, Harry, but you’ll step into other waters.”

Harry looked at him sharply. But just then Arthur came back and Malfoy turned to him, making his excuses and asking to leave the car there until he could return for it. Arthur assented cheerfully, Malfoy retrieved a broom from the car, and once again Harry watched him sail gracefully off into the sky. Longing tugged at him. 

A broom, that was it. He needed a broom. He hadn’t flown on one in years; it wasn’t done in China, and he had given his own away there in an excess of non-attachment. He would shop for one soon.

His thoughts were interrupted by the call to come have tea, and he returned gratefully to the Burrow to bask in the Weasleys’ affection. 

But later, when he was alone, Malfoy’s words came back to him. _“You can return to a river…”_

Had it been five years since that night? Or had it ever really happened at all?

o0o

“Why do I run into Draco Malfoy everywhere I go?” Harry said when he was back at Padma and Hermione’s.

“Do you? Well, he gets around. Has a lot of clients. How is Draco these days?” Padma asked.

“He’s more polite than he used to be. But he has the oddest delusions about wyverns. I can’t figure it out.”

“Is he still collecting them?

“Collecting them?”

“Did he ever get the electric organ?” Padma asked. “I thought the aeroplane sounded a bit over the top.”

“Thank goodness he couldn’t get the aeroplane,” Hermione put in. “They didn’t sound safe at all. There’s only one left, and it’s in a museum.”

“What aeroplane?” Harry said, feeling lost.

“The wyvern.”

“You’re starting to sound as mad as he does.”

Padma laughed. “Draco tried for a while to go under the name Wystan Wyvern, but everyone figured it out. And then he got a bit obsessed. That car’s a – what is it again Hermione?”

“Vauxhall Wyvern. The plane was a Westland Wyvern.”

Harry sighed. “So the fountain pen too?” 

“It has the cutest engraving of a wyvern on the nib,” said Padma.

Remembering Draco’s little smiles, Harry felt a bit disgruntled. _He was just laughing at me._ “Whoever picks a name like Wystan,” he muttered.

“There was a St Wystan,” Hermione said. 

“How do you know these things, Hermione?”

“My girl is like a magpie around bright shiny little facts. She just has to collect them,” Padma said fondly.

“Well, you’re like a bird always trailing bits of poems in your beak, to line a nest with,” Hermione retorted. They beamed at each other.

“There was a poet named Wystan,” Padma said. “Wystan Hugh Auden. _In the deserts of the heart/ Let the healing fountain start._ ”

“That’s lovely,” Hermione said. “Oh look, the sun’s come out. Let’s go for a walk. We’ll show you the neighbourhood, Harry.”

They were strolling through a park when clouds returned and it started to rain lightly. Hermione was starting an Umbrella Charm when Padma said, “Oh, but the rain feels nice.”

“This rain is going to turn my hair into a giant puffball of frizz,” said Hermione.

Padma threw her arms wide and declaimed:

> _What would the world be, once bereft  
>  Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,  
>  O let them be left, wildness and wet;  
>  Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet._

“Are you comparing my hair to weeds?” Hermione asked, mock-frowning.

Padma took Hermione’s hand in hers and swung it. “I am saying, let your hair spring forth in all its wild glory, my love.”

Hermione giggled, Padma kissed her cheek, and Harry smiled to see them so happy.

o0o

Harry took a room at the Leaky Cauldron, not wanting to keep imposing on Hermione and Padma, though they said he was welcome to stay. As he was leaving Padma said, “Take a book. You’ll need something to read. Here – how about a poetry anthology?”

Harry grinned. “Thanks. This will be fine – I’ll return it later.”

In the evening, waiting for sleep, he paged through it, looking for Wystan Hugh. He found W.H. Auden, and a poem. _Lullaby_. Well, why not? He settled down to read.

> _Lay your sleeping head, my love,  
>  Human on my faithless arm;_

Harry caught his breath.

> _… in my arms till break of day  
>  Let the living creature lie,  
>  Mortal, guilty, but to me  
>  The entirely beautiful. _

Harry let the book drop and pressed his eyes shut, but the image still pierced him. The sharp features, the pale hair, the rare unguarded expression of Draco Malfoy, asleep in the moonlight.

o0o

Harry coasted down toward the Quidditch stands on his new Stratoblaster Three Thousand. It flew well, though he was still getting used to how responsive it was. Ginny’s team, the Holyhead Harpies, were about to play. He’d seen her at the Burrow, laughing and cuddling with Lee Jordan, and found it didn’t bother him. Ginny looked relaxed and vibrant and he was happy for her, so when she told him about the match he was glad to go. He hadn’t seen Quidditch in years.

As Harry approached the broom-check stand for safe storage during the match, who should be in front of him in the queue but Draco Malfoy. Because of course he was.

“Nice broom,” Malfoy said.

“It’s a Hippogriff,” said Harry.

Malfoy’s lip twitched. “That’s funny, I could have sworn that was the new Stratoblaster Three Thousand.”

“What are you on, the Windblaster Wyvern Five Thousand?”

“If such a thing existed, I would be, but this my faithful but prosaic old Nimbus.” 

“You might have told me those wyverns you kept talking about were just brand names.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Malfoy said, handing his broom to the young broom-check wizard in exchange for a token.

“You were laughing at me,” Harry said, handing over his own broom.

“Is that a crime?” 

“You’re still laughing at me. Fine. Tell me how you got started.”

“Ah,” said Malfoy. “It all began with the tuba.”

Now Harry laughed. And as they walked toward the stands Malfoy explained how he had overheard someone on a Muggle street telling a friend excitedly that she had just bought a Wessex Wyvern. He was startled, wondering if it was an illicit trade in magical beasts, but he had inquired where she got it, and was given an address. When he cautiously approached the place he found it was a musical instrument showroom that specialised in tubas. 

“There were little wyverns engraved on the valve buttons. So I bought one.”

“Oh, naturally,” Harry said deadpan. “And do you play this tuba?”

“A little.” 

“When is your next concert?”

“If there ever is one, I shall save you a ticket.”

“What about real ones?” Harry asked, serious now.

“Real concerts?”

“Real wyverns.”

Malfoy shook his head. “No one’s seen a wyvern in Wessex for over a hundred years. They aren’t even listed in _Fabulous Beasts_. It’s Muggles who keep the memory alive.”

“Don’t you want to look for one?”

“They were dangerous. You’re the one who rides dragons and Hippogriffs, Potter. I’m a coward, remember?” 

And then he turned abruptly and squeezed his way into a single empty spot in the stands, leaving Harry to find his own place to sit, some distance away.

The game was good but Harry was distracted. _I’m a coward, remember?_

 _That’s not the way I remember it,_ something in his mind supplied. 

The crowd erupted in cheers. Ginny had caught the Snitch, and Harry had missed seeing it. As people began to pour out of the stands, Harry looked around for Malfoy’s pale hair, but didn’t see him anywhere. 

_You can return to a river…_

After he left the match Harry flew back to find that river and its bridge. It looked so much more cheerful now, sparkling in warm sunlight, than it had that night five years ago…

o0o

_The night was chilly. Harry had been standing on a bridge, staring at the dark water below, his mind circling around that final argument with Ginny, wondering if there would have been any way to put things right. He couldn’t think of one. And she had moved on, he couldn’t blame her. The war was two years past. Everyone seemed to be moving on, why couldn’t he? But he didn’t know how, or where, he was so tired…_

_Sunk in thought, he didn’t hear someone approach._

_“Lost, Potter?” said a dry voice._

_Harry nodded without looking up._

_“Potter?” The voice was sharper now. “Potter, are you all right?”_

_“No,” Harry said simply, still staring at the water._

_“Well, that’s honest,” the voice muttered. “So… do you want to talk about it?”_

_“No.” The current swept under the bridge._

_“You want to be left alone, then?”_

_“No!” As long as he kept his eyes on the water, maybe Harry could talk after all. “I just… don’t see the point sometimes, you know?”_

_“I do know. But bridges over cold rivers on dark nights aren’t the best places to stop when you’re feeling that way.”_

_The voice seemed almost familiar. Harry dragged his eyes away from the dark water and up to the face of Draco Malfoy, looking almost sympathetic in the light of a streetlamp._

_“Have you been drinking, Potter? Do you need help getting home?”_

_“No. Yes.” Harry hadn’t been drinking, just grieving. And he needed a home, because his house wasn’t one._

_Malfoy gave the ghost of a smile. “All right, tell me your address and I’ll Side-Along you.”_

_“Not mine. Yours.”_

_Malfoy frowned._

_“Your home,” Harry clarified._

_Malfoy stared at him. Then he let out a long shaky breath and something in his face opened up. “All right,” he said, and wrapped Harry in his arms._

o0o

At Hermione and Padma’s invitation, Harry joined them at Tea and Tarot for the next Taro Tuesday. The place was bustling. As he ate a bowl of bubur cha cha, he found himself in the midst of a debate about the food at Hogwarts.

“What was wrong with the food at school?” Harry said. “I loved it.”

“Seriously?” Padma said. “What did you like about it?”

“There was a lot. Er, of choices,” Harry added, not wanting to reveal too much of his hungry childhood.

“A lot of choices?” Padma rolled her eyes. “You must be joking. All those years, and never even the simplest curry. Terrible place to be a vegetarian.” She turned and looked around. “Cho! What did you think of the food at Hogwarts?”

Cho Chang, now with asymmetrical indigo hair, swung around. “Hogwarts food? Kind of boring. Big slabs of meat, bland vegetables. Oh, hello Harry!”

Padma, meantime, had hailed Anthony Goldstein to ask his opinion.

“Not bad, except on the holidays.”

“The holiday feasts were brilliant!” Harry protested.

“Different holidays,” Anthony said. “If Passover didn’t fall during the Easter holiday I could get permission to go home for Seder on the first night, and my mum would send me back with a load of matzoh and coconut macaroons, and sometimes at school she would owl me challah or rugelach, or hamentashen at Purim. But you can’t owl hot latkes.”

“What are hamentashen?” Lavender asked, and soon she was jotting notes about cookie dough and the merits of poppyseed versus apricot filling.

“This is one more problem with using house-elves for labour,” Hermione said. “They can’t be expected to know all these differing cultural traditions, but they haven’t been trained to cook for a diverse student body. From a post-colonial perspective…”

Harry was distracted by the sight of Draco Malfoy entering. Instead of sitting down, he went to the counter to pick up a takeout order. Harry went up to speak with him.

“Er, Malfoy, can I talk to you?”

“Apparently,” Malfoy said.

“No, I mean… sometime when you have a bit of time, somewhere quieter?”

“It’s a busy time of month for me. Owl me in a week or so?”

“All right,” Harry said, and then Malfoy had paid for his order and gone.

Harry made his way back towards the table. Padma and a younger witch Harry didn’t know were discussing veganism. “I think it’s admirable from the principle of non-violence, _ahimsa_ ,” Padma said, “but it would be difficult for me to give up dairy.”

“If you get too pure you’ll end up like those Jains who won’t even pull up a potato because it kills the plant,” Parvati said, passing by. “No onions or garlic, either. For that matter, no taro. And you’d all have to go home without today’s other pudding too.” She was carrying bowls of something fragrant and creamy.

“Oh my god, Parvati, did you make shrikhand?” Padma said. “I love you. You have to try this, Harry.”

So Harry finished his meal with an utterly delicious combination of sweetened yogurt, cardamom, saffron, pistachios and rosewater, and tried not to keep thinking about Draco Malfoy.

o0o

Back in bed in his room that evening, Harry reached for the poetry anthology, and found the poem again.

> _Every farthing of the cost,  
>  All the dreaded cards foretell,  
>  Shall be paid, but from this night  
>  Not a whisper, not a thought,  
>  Not a kiss nor look be lost._

That night, five years ago. Leaving the cold night air on the bridge, landing in Malfoy’s small flat. Harry shaking. The warmth of another body against his. As Malfoy’s arms loosened, Harry had protested. “No.”

Malfoy stepped back. “No what?” He took a deep breath and looked down. “Look, Potter, I know you’ve no reason to trust me. But if you do…” He pulled his eyes back up to Harry’s. “I’ll try to deserve it. But you need to tell me what you want.”

To find words for his want was more than Harry could do. He was getting cold and shaky again. He drew Malfoy closer; that was better. He closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against Malfoy’s like a cat, and heard him catch his breath. Then he felt that unsteady breath warm against his skin. Harry pressed a little closer. A slow pulse of desire began to beat in him. He brushed his mouth over Draco’s.

Hesitantly, Draco’s arm came back around Harry’s waist. Draco whispered, “Are you sure?” 

Harry, both wildly uncertain and strangely, deeply sure, still could not speak. Lips and tongue found other ways to answer. Draco gasped and then kissed him back. So they began a call and response of kiss and caress, of need and desire, fumbling at first but growing in ardour, until finally they were tumbling into bed together, a tangle of discarded clothes behind them.

Now years later, alone in his room at the inn Harry dropped the book of poems, doused the light, and cast a _Muffliato_. His hands slid beneath the sheets, stoking the fire of a passion long dormant. A cry tore out of him as he came. He lay panting, and then dropped into a heavy sleep.

o0o

Several days later Harry went to dinner at Andromeda’s house, played with Teddy, read him a bedtime story, and finally sat talking with Andromeda.

“How are you?” she asked.

Harry waited for her to go on, but she was actually waiting for him to reply. This was not a woman to answer with platitudes.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said. “Glad to see my friends, and you and Teddy. Amazed how much he’s grown. Sorry I missed so much of it. Not sure what to do next.”

“You have time to figure it out,” Andromeda said. “It must be quite a culture shock to be back here after living in such a different place. And yes, we missed you, but you must have had your reasons for leaving. You’d had such a weight of expectations on you for so long.”

Harry nodded. “That, and… I was all out of balance.” 

A Chinese magical healer had told him that his magical energy, though strong, was not flowing freely, as if it had been contorted around some other shape that was no longer there. Even though the sliver of Voldemort's soul was gone, an imprint was left. In the calm solitude of the mountains, Harry’s spirit had gradually uncrumpled. Eventually he felt at peace. And then, in time, lonely.

“You seem better now,” Andromeda said. “It’s your life, Harry, and you have the right to leave when you feel you need to. But maybe give us a little warning next time? We eventually learned from Charlie Weasley that you had gone to China, but when no one heard from you after that we were worried. If it hadn’t been for the clock I think they’d have sent out an international search party for you.”

“Clock?”

“Apparently Molly Weasley made –”

“Oh no,” Harry said. “Ginny was so furious when she made that. I thought she got Molly to take it apart.” Molly had made one of her clocks that showed activities and locations instead of hours, thinking Ginny would want to know where Harry was at all times. Ginny had said it was a violation of privacy.

“Well, I don’t know what the clock was like originally,” Andromeda said, “but now it only has two settings: ‘In Mortal Peril’ and ‘Not in Mortal Peril.’ Molly kept an eye on it after you left, and sent weekly reports to the newspapers. _The Daily Prophet_ used to put it on the front page, but gradually moved it to the back and finally dropped it. _The Quibbler_ always tucked it in somewhere, and it always said you weren’t in danger of dying at the moment. So that was a relief.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think people would be so worried, once Voldemort was gone.”

Andromeda’s face softened. “You aren’t just some magical weapon against evil, Harry. You’re a person who people love.”

Harry blinked away tears. “And you, how have you been?”

“Teddy is a joy. I don’t know what I’d do without him. And he hasn’t had any more trouble since he began taking that potion.”

Harry frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

“It seems lycanthropy is more complicated than we once thought, or perhaps the disease altered its form. Now that there are efforts to lessen the stigma against those who have been bitten by werewolves, whether in wolf form or not, those people have been sharing their experiences. Bill Weasley used to joke that he had developed a fondness for rare steaks, but it was a bit more than that. And though we didn’t think any problems that Remus had would be hereditary, Teddy did use to get a bit agitated when the moon was full.”

Seeing Harry’s concern, she added, “Teddy was never in danger of transforming, but it wasn’t comfortable for him. Fortunately Draco had been specialising in the Wolfsbane Potion, which was much in demand after the war. He began researching modifications that could be used for people with lesser symptoms, and came up with a potion that’s been working very well. Now he’s even experimenting with flavours to make it taste better.”

Harry remembered Teddy requesting cherry flavour. And the potion delivery for Lavender, and Draco saying it was a busy time of month… It was all making sense.

“He seems to have changed a lot,” Harry said.

“He’s estranged from his father. That helps. He’s even mixed with some of Ted’s family at Teddy’s birthday parties. I think Muggles still baffle him a bit, but he doesn’t sneer at them anymore, and he’s been a good cousin to Teddy. And you,” she said, giving Harry a thoughtful look, “do you ever see your Muggle cousin?”

“Dudley?” Harry shook his head. “I don’t expect any happy reconciliations there and I sure haven’t missed him. I mean, I suppose if Draco Malfoy can turn over a new leaf then anything is possible, but I think the Dursleys are all just glad to have the magical freak out of their lives.”

“Well, goodhearted magical freaks are always welcome here. Let’s make a toast,” Andromeda said, “to the black sheep of the family!”

o0o

When the full moon had come and gone, Harry owled Draco. They agreed to meet the next day in a park. When they were finally together, Harry pushed through the awkwardness by thanking him for what he’d done for Teddy.

“Andromeda told me about the potion you made, and how much it helped him. I appreciate it.”

“He’s my cousin,” Draco said. “And I’d been making the Wolfsbane, so I had an idea where to start.”

“I heard that Wolfsbane was a very difficult potion to make, and that not many people knew how.” 

“Professor Snape taught it to me.” Draco’s mouth twisted. “He thought I might need to know.”

Harry remembered Fenrir Greyback at Malfoy Manor, and how tense and frightened Draco had been in his own home. How much they had all been through.

“Anyway, I appreciate it,” he repeated.

Draco nodded. “If that’s all?” He began to get up.

“No, wait,” Harry said. He shut his eyes and opened them again. “That night…”

Draco stilled.

“Did it really happen?” Harry asked.

Draco didn’t ask what he meant, just turned careful eyes on him. Then nodded.

“And – it was good?” Harry asked.

“The night?” Draco said. Again he nodded slowly. “The next morning, not so much.”

Harry had slipped out while Draco was sleeping. Left the bed, the flat, the country. Left everything except a word.

“I was a coward,” Harry said.

After a moment Draco gave a wry smile. “Welcome to the human race.”

“I should thank you for that too,” Harry said.

“For driving you out of the country?”

“For plucking me off that cold dark bridge, and… getting me unstuck? I needed to change my life, and I just didn’t know how to do it here. But I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly. I guess I didn’t think you’d care.”

“You thought I wouldn’t _care_? I may have been all kinds of horrible to you, Harry Potter, but when have I ever been indifferent?”

“True,” Harry said. “Your schemes of harassment were generally quite elaborate. Uniquely creative, compared to those of my cousin, say.”

“I should think so,” Draco said. “Dudley seems like a solid type but not what you would call ingenious.”

“You are not going to tell me that you know Dudley Dursley.”

“He and Greg are in an amateur sumo club together.”

Harry let out a crack of laughter. 

“Same river, different water,” Draco said.

Harry asked, “Didn’t you ever want to just go far away and start over?” 

“It was tempting sometimes, but… it would have felt like cheating? You were a war hero who deserved a vacation. I was someone who needed to make restitution.” Draco was silent for a moment, looking out at the horizon. “And it’s worked out. I have my potion making and research.”

“And your wyverns.”

“That too.”

“When do I get to hear you play the tuba?”

“Are you sure you want to? I’m no Roger Bobo.”

“I’ll bite,” said Harry. “Who is Roger Bobo?”

Draco’s eyes took on that gleam of amusement that Harry was starting to recognise. He began to recite in rapid-fire rhythm:

> _…Barracuda off Aruba,  
>  Cock an ear when Roger Bobo  
>  Starts to solo on the tuba._
> 
> _Men of every station -- Pooh-Bah,  
>  Nabob, bozo, toff, and hobo --  
>  Cry in unison, "Indubi-  
>  Tably, there is simply nobo-_
> 
> _Dy who oompahs on the tubo,  
>  Solo, quite like Roger Bubo!_

By the end Harry was laughing. “How much did you have to practise to be able to rattle that off?”

Draco shrugged disarmingly. “Practice is necessary for any musician.”

“I still want a concert.”

“Well, if you’re going to call in a Life Debt on it…”

Harry frowned. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to,” he said abruptly.

“Potter? It was a joke.”

“That night,” Harry said. “Did you do it because you felt you had to?”

Draco gave him a keen look, then shook his head. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do.”

Caught by memory, Harry shut his eyes. True, nothing about Draco that night had seemed reluctant. Hesitant only at first, then passionate. Someone like that had probably had many lovers since then. Probably still did. He sighed and opened his eyes.

“Thanks again about Teddy’s potion. I had better get going.” 

Draco was looking at him with a puzzled frown as Harry turned to walk away.

o0o

Charlie Weasley was back in the country for a family celebration of his parent’s wedding anniversary, and Harry got a chance to visit him. They talked about Harry’s stay in China, the dragon reserve in Romania, and the differences between European and Chinese dragons.

“How are you finding it being back here, after your years in the mountains?” Charlie asked.

“It’s great to see everyone. I think the city’s starting to wear on me a little, though.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Maybe you need to get a little place closer to the wild lands.”

“Maybe so.” Harry remembered the steep misty slopes near his hut in China, the cries of cranes and gibbons, blue and green dragons circling the peaks. “By the way, Charlie, what do you know about wyverns?”

“Hmm, not much about them specifically, we don’t have any at the preserve. They’re smaller than your other dragons of course, just the two legs, no fire… Very protective of their territory, I’ve heard. Good at keeping down pests like Red Caps and Nogtails.”

“Draco Malfoy says none have been seen in Wessex for over a hundred years.”

“Really? That’s not good. The magico-ecology must be out of balance.”

“Does that mean the wyverns have all died off, then? Could they be hiding?” Harry asked.

“There might be one or more hibernating. Dragon-kind are more sensitive than you might think. They can go into a lethargy when the magical energy-field is depressed. They’re tough to kill off altogether, though. And the eggs won’t hatch until conditions are right – it’s called environmentally cued hatching. So they might make a comeback under the right circumstances.” 

“How do we create the right circumstances?”

Charlie exhaled. “It’s hard to say – it depends on the breed, their history in the area. You can do research, but a lot is intuition. I wish I could help, but I have to get back to Romania. Do you know anyone with an affinity for wyverns?”

Harry thought of Draco jotting notes with his Wyvern pen, leaning over his Wyvern car, describing the engraving on his Wyvern tuba. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”

o0o

When it came to research, Harry naturally thought of Hermione. He was just going to ask her to point him in the right direction, but she became interested herself and invited him to come over that evening. When he arrived Hermione was poring over a stack of books. Padma said hello to Harry and went to make them all tea.

“So, wyverns were a symbol of Wessex,” Hermione began.

“Where is Wessex anyway?” Padma said, sticking her head out of the kitchen.

“Southwest England. It was the Kingdom of the West Saxons, up to about a thousand years ago. Alfred the Great was a king of Wessex, and he had a wyvern on his flag.”

“He’s the one who burnt the cakes, right?” Harry asked, a vague memory stirring. 

“He doesn’t sound so great to me,” Padma said, entering with a tray. “Have some tea and unburnt cakes, Harry.”

“Apocryphal,” Hermione murmured, taking a cake. “He fought off Vikings and kept the peace, commissioned the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, had Latin books translated into Old English, set up schools, and promoted literacy.”

“Oh, that’s much better,” Padma said. “I approve.”

“The schools were only for boys, though,” Hermione added.

Padma made a face.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said. “Is there anything more recent about wyverns?”

“Hmm. Various medieval illustrations… The Earl of Pembroke had a wyvern on his crest…”

“Pembroke?” Padma said. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Sir William Herbert, First Earl of Pembroke, 1501-1570,” Hermione read.

“That’s it!” Padma said. “Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke. She must have married one of his descendants.”

“Who was she?” Harry said.

“She was a poet. Possibly the author of the plays and sonnets attributed to Shakespeare.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but all she could publish in her own name were translations. It wasn’t seemly for a gentlewoman to write original work.” Padma snorted.

Hermione was still reading. “She would have lived at Wilton House, then.”

“That’s right, she had a literary circle there with her brother Philip. Where is it located?”

“In Wiltshire. There are probably wyvern motifs all over there. Here’s a picture of one on a tapestry.”

“The Malfoys lived in Wiltshire, didn’t they?” Harry said.

“Let’s go and see Wilton House!” Padma said. “It’s probably possible to tour it. Harry, you invite Draco. You can all look for wyverns and I’ll wander the halls of a literary foremother.”

o0o

Draco accepted the invitation and the four of them met outside Wilton House. They passed through beautiful grounds and were soon wandering the halls. The guides were friendly, so Harry asked about the wyverns and Padma asked about Mary Sidney. One of the guides mentioned that Mary and her brother Philip had played billiards with sticks engraved with the Herberts’ wyvern crest and the bear crest of the Dudleys, their mother’s family.

“Really?” Harry said, glancing at the others. A billiard stick would be an excellent place to conceal a wand. “Could we see them?” But it seemed that the wyvern billiard stick was long gone, and no one remembered where.

Padma and Hermione went outside to admire the Palladian Bridge while Draco examined the gilded wyverns on the crown moulding in the Double Cube Room. Harry tarried in a small room full of paintings. He thought he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to look back at a landscape, where a small snake was curled up on a rock. Had it been there before? 

“Hello,” Harry said. "I'm looking for a wizarding billiard stick, but no one seems to know where it is."

“The one with the wyvern on it?” the snake said in a rustling voice. “I can tell you that.”

“Thank you!” Harry said. “I would be very grateful if you could!”

When Draco touched his arm a few minutes later, Harry had the information he needed. 

“You were hissing in there,” Draco said as they went to join the witches on the Palladian Bridge. 

“I suppose I was,” said Harry serenely.

Draco snorted and jostled Harry with his elbow, and Harry grinned.

o0o

After some time, money and negotiation, Harry was the proud possessor of the two engraved billiard sticks. He felt the one with the wyvern had a magical aura. Time to give Draco a Floo call.

“Are you ready to take part in the Wessex Wyvern Restoration Project?”

“Are you sure that it’s a good idea to wake one up, even if we can do it?” Draco said.

“Charlie Weasley says that wyverns are essential to the magico-ecological balance. I found the boundaries of the wyvern reserve; we can reinforce the wards before we begin. And don’t you want a little wildness in your life?”

“I suppose that’s why I take your calls,” Draco said. “What do we need to do?”

“I’ll bring the wyvern billiard stick, it may be a specialised wand in disguise. You should be the chief wyvern charmer. Bring every wyverny thing you’ve got.” 

When Harry arrived at their agreed upon meeting place, he saw Draco pulling up in the vintage car. “Are you really going to drive this?” Harry asked.

“You said to bring every wyvernous thing I owned. It would be cruel not to bring the car.”

“Cruel to who?”

“The car. How many other wyverns does it get to see? Besides, it’s a convenient way to carry the tuba. You can’t be more afraid of my driving than of unleashing a dragon, Potter, now get in.”

And in fact Draco was a fairly good driver. The Vauxhall Wyvern could no longer be considered a speedy car, but it didn’t break down, and they reached the boundary of the old wyvern reserve in one piece. “Now what?” said Draco.

“This is where intuition comes in,” Harry said, taking out the wyvern billiard stick. “Can I be the Wyvern Warden?”

“Live it up.” Draco took out his Wyvern fountain pen, along with some parchment, and wrote _Dear Wyvern, We come in peace. Please don’t eat us._ “I think I’ll just stick this note to a tree. Trying to send it by owl wouldn’t be safe for the owl, even if we’d thought to bring one. Of course I could fly it like those interdepartmental memos at the Ministry of Magic, but that might be annoying.”

“Do you think wyverns can actually read?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try. How are the wards coming?” 

Harry lifted the billiard stick and tried casting a protective spell to keep wyverns in and Muggles out. There was a satisfying sizzle of energy. “Good. I’ll Apparate along the perimeter to reinforce them.”

When he returned Draco had the tuba out and was just putting away a small bottle.

“What’s that for?” Harry asked.

“Lubricating the valves.” Draco picked up the tuba and announced:

> _Fresh oilèd I  
>  Will lively lift my horn  
>  And match the matchless unicorn._

Harry snorted. “What unicorn?”

“That’s a scrap of psalm, translated by Mary Sidney Herbert. Padma lent me the book. All right, time for a concert.”

They sat on a slope with a sweeping view of a valley and hills beyond. Draco lifted his tuba and played a haunting tune, full of loss and regret. Harry turned to him with wondering eyes. “That is an apology for neglect,” Draco said.

The next melody he played rose into something more hopeful and joyous. “For future possibilities.”

He switched into languorous and sensual music. Stirred, Harry lay watching him. “That must be for mating,” he said when Draco finished. Draco smiled and raised an eyebrow. 

_I hear you,_ Harry thought. _I know your tone. I am your zhīyīn._

Just then Draco played a burst of oom-pah silliness, like Harry had always expected tuba music to be. Harry laughed. “That sounds like a kids’ concert.”

“To amuse the hatchlings,” Draco confirmed, setting his tuba down.

“When did you grow into such a fine man, Draco Malfoy?” Harry murmured.

“I was chastened by experience,” Draco said. Catching the look on Harry’s face, he said, “What?”

“Chaste is not really the word I associate with you.”

Draco looked away, blushing. “You saw a side of me that other people haven’t.”

“Really? No one else?”

When Draco didn’t answer, Harry said, “Why not?”

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t want to.” He looked up. “Why do I have to answer all the questions, Harry? Why don’t you ever talk about your own feelings?”

“I…” Harry’s tongue knotted itself. “I would play you a sexy tuba song if I knew how.”

Draco laughed softly. “Is that your idea of flirting?”

“Is it working?” Harry said hopefully.

“Luckily, Harry Potter, what I need from you is not so much persuasion” – Draco’s darkening eyes fell towards Harry’s mouth – “as permission.”

“Well then,” Harry said huskily. He leaned over Draco, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead and cupping his cheek, then moved in to kiss him, slowly at first. He pulled back. “Is that enough?”

“Not nearly,” Draco replied. “Is there more where that came from?” 

Harry laughed and kissed him again. Draco pulled Harry down on top of himself and snogged him. “More,” he demanded. He held Harry close as they began to move against each other.

A harsh cry rent the air, and Harry felt the brief squeeze of Disapparition. When he and Draco popped back they were tangled together on the ground on the other side of the boundary wards. Apparently Draco could Side-Along from below.

“Look!” Draco said. “It’s magnificent.”

A golden wyvern soared over the valley, gleaming in the sunlight.

“We did it!” Harry was flushed with passion and excitement.

“The tuba’s still in there,” Draco said suddenly.

“And the billiard stick!” Harry started to get up.

Draco clamped his legs around Harry’s waist. “You stay here. That’s what wands are for.” He extricated his, and with a deft combination of Summoning and Cushioning Charms managed to get the tuba back without it smacking into them. Then he brought the billiard stick sailing over. 

“Now,” he said, turning his attention back to Harry, “I was just beginning to get the _thrust_ of your arguments.” He bucked up against Harry for emphasis. “I think you should continue to _press_ your case.”

Harry looked down at him, feeling how fortunate he was to see Draco’s face loosened by passion once more, this time lit by sunshine rather than moonlight, this time smiling at silly innuendo, this time when Harry was ready to return, not fly away.

Same river, different waters.

Dive on in, the water’s fine.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is adapted from a line of the poem [Inversnaid](https://hopkinspoetry.com/poem/inversnaid/) by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and Padma quotes a verse of it here as well. There are also quotations from “Night Sitting”, by Ching An, translated by J.P. Seaton, from _The Clouds Should Know Me by Now: Buddhist Poet Monks of China_ ; [Lullaby](https://poets.org/poem/lullaby-0) and [In Memory of W.B. Yeats](https://poets.org/poem/memory-w-b-yeats) by W.H. Auden; [Recital](http://www.edstephan.org/webstuff/poetry/Updike-Recital.html) by John Updike; and the 92nd Psalm translated by Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, from _The Sidney Psalter: The Psalms of Sir Philip and Mary Sidney_. The Sidney Psalter (the majority of which was written by Mary, after her brother died) is a virtuoso work of English verse, with each of the 150 psalms being written in a different combination of stanza and metrical form. To learn more about scholarship connecting Mary Sidney Herbert to the authorship of Shakespeare’s works, see [The Mary Sidney Society](http://www.marysidneysociety.org/), [The Shakespeare Authorship Roundtable](http://shakespeareauthorship.org/authors/sidney.html), _Sweet Swan of Avon: Did a Woman Write Shakespeare?_ by Robin P. Williams and _Tiger’s Heart in Woman’s Hide_ by Fred Faulkes. Draco paraphrases the Greek philosopher [Heraclitus](https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/heraclitus/#Flu).  
> You can see the [Double Cube Room](http://periodpiecesandportraiture.blogspot.com/2013/04/wilton-house.html) and [Palladian Bridge](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wilton_House_the_Palladian_Bridge_-_geograph.org.uk_-_831915.jpg) of Wilton House here. The Wyvern-named [cars](https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Vauxhall_Wyvern), [pens](https://goodwriterspens.com/2010/11/01/less-common-british-pens-the-wyvern/), [aeroplanes](https://www.tangmere-museum.org.uk/aircraft-month/westland-wyvern) and [tubas](https://wessex-tubas.com/products/cc-5-4-piston-tuba-wyvern-tc590) are all real – as are the [bear and wyvern engraved billiard sticks](http://images.library.yale.edu/walpoleimages/hwcorrespondence/39/318.pdf), later collected by Horace Walpole! But I made up the wyverns’ connection to Red Caps and Nogtails. I read about Taoist and Buddhist monks, nuns and hermits of the Zhongshan Mountains in Bill Porter’s _Road to Heaven: Encounters with Chinese Hermits_. Here is [one version of the legend of Boya and Zhong Ziqi](http://en.hubei.gov.cn/culture/intangible/201408/t20140807_512476.shtml). I have not tasted [arbi ki sabji](https://vegecravings.com/arbi-ki-sabji-recipe/) or [bubur cha cha](https://www.malaysianchinesekitchen.com/bubur-cha-cha/), but I can vouch for the deliciousness of [shrikhand](https://rachnas-kitchen.com/shrikhand-recipe/), [latkes and hamentashen](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latke%E2%80%93Hamantash_Debate).
> 
> ===
> 
> This fic is part of HD Erised 2020; thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment below. ♥


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